


Don't Misgender The Boss

by Little_Gory



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen, non-binary boss, queer boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Gory/pseuds/Little_Gory
Summary: A short work inspired by playing far too many hours of Saints Row The Third in one day. Oops.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was not sure how to rate this. I figured general, because there isn't any outright violence... But there is threatened violence. Also an explosion.

The boss of the biggest most bad-assiest gang in Steelport rolled up in their tiny pink Emu. Rubble crunched under three tires. The fourth was reduced to its rim, grating along stone in a headache-inducing shriek. The paint job of the tiny car was in tatters, and the body was all banged up after it played its role in the Boss’s most recent battle against a rival gang. To passers-by, it looked like shit. But to the Boss, it looked like the sign of a job well done. 

The Boss themself kicked open the driver-side door and leapt lightly from their seat. They looked little better than their vehicle. Their Saints Row emblazoned clothing was a blood-soaked mess – more their blood than others, but what was a little blood loss to the Boss of the Saints? – and it appeared to be hanging by but a few loose threads.   
Planet Saints loomed a few paces ahead like a purple neon monster, just like the Boss liked it. Music thrummed loudly from within the glass doors as if it could hardly be contained by the surrounding walls. A deep rhythmic wub-wub-wub of the bass echoed in the Boss’ chest cavity. They grinned and, with effortless dignity, spat out a tooth and took the first three steps to the entrance.

With the same amount of dignity, the Boss absently noted that their car had just ignited with a loud fwoof. Their buttocks were suddenly quite toasty from their unsheltered view of the flames. A truly bad-ass explosion was imminent. There was no better time to enter their well-earned property. As they pushed the glass door open, the teeny car erupted into fire and shrapnel. The initial BOOM was quickly replaced with a high-pitched ringing inside the Boss’ ears. The shockwave burst through the windows of the small storefront, shattering them instantly. Inside, employees dove for cover and cowered in fear. 

The Boss, miraculously but unsurprisingly unharmed, strode casually into the center of the room and idly browsed through their selection of denim shorts. They ignored the cowering staff for the time being.

One of the new girls, still in training, lifted herself shakily from the floor and gingerly dusted powdered glass off her Saints hoody. She took a deep breath, and approached the Boss with a winning ‘I-am-here-to-help’ smile. She was unfortunately oblivious to her superior’s frantic pantomimes to stop and get the hell away.  
“Is there anything I can help you find, ma’am?” The new girl said in a sickly-sweet voice.  
Instantly, the air in the room chilled by several degrees. The boss dropped a pair of green booty shorts back onto the rack and faced the girl with a grimace.   
The new girl was suddenly, painfully aware that she had made the worst mistake of her entire life. Her expression changed from its ‘store-clerk’ mask to one of genuine fear. “…Sir?” She attempted to correct feebly. 

The Boss narrowed their eyes and chuckled dangerously. “Miya.” They called without looking away from the new girl.   
The supervisor almost fell in her haste to scramble around the check-out desk. “Yes, Boss?” She answered breathlessly.  
“Who am I?” The Boss asked redundantly.  
Miya blinked in confusion. “You’re the Boss, Boss.” She answered.  
“Right. And what are my preferred pronouns?”  
“You use they, them pronouns, Boss.” Miya replied promptly. She spared a fleeting, fearful glance for the newest employee of the store. She wondered dismally if the teen would live to work here another day.  
“Right again. Can you explain why she didn’t know that?” The Boss asked in a voice that was suddenly quiet, and cold as ice.  
“Sh-sh-she’s new! I-I’m very sorry, Boss! W-We’ve been short staffed, training time has been shortened so we can get enough full-timers, and we-“ She stopped at a sudden glare from the Boss. She swallowed thickly and looked at her trembling hands. “I am sorry. It will not happen again.” She said, thoroughly scolded.  
“Good. I hope this promise will hold true. Because if it does not…” The Boss produced an impressive-looking handgun from somewhere and turned it in their hands, as if scrutinizing it for minute flaws.   
“I understand, Boss! Sorry again, Boss!”

The Boss leaned away from the new girl and went back to their browsing. The change in atmosphere was immediate, as the Boss was all smiles and murder-time-fun-time once again. “Now, I need a new outfit. Would one of you dears give me a hand?”


End file.
